


Over-Doing It

by HiddenTreasures



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Over heating, Romance, heat exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTreasures/pseuds/HiddenTreasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor stubbornly refuses to admit the shortcomings of his new human body, and overdoes it while playing in the back garden with Rose and Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over-Doing It

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for TimePetalsPrompts weekly ficlet prompt “dangerous summer situations, weather, or overheating”.

The Doctor hated humanity. Well, okay, that wasn’t quite true. He loved humans and their inquisitiveness and their tenacity and their creativity. Humans were brilliant.

He just hated  _being_  one. Well, okay, even that wasn’t quite true. Being human meant he could keep Rose. Never mind that her opinion of him had cooled ever since they watched the TARDIS leave them behind on that blasted beach. Never mind that she had barely spoken a word to him aside from the usual pleasantries since they’d arrived back in London. Never mind any of that. Rose was with him once more, and that in itself was a wonderful gift. But he did miss her terribly and hoped she would be able to accept him sooner rather than later. He’d missed her for so long, and he was tired of missing her when she was right beside him.

But anyways, the point was, the Doctor disliked his new human body. It was so fragile and felt so wrong. He was still getting used to only having one heart, and there were times he awoke in the middle of the night gasping, trying to restart a heart he didn’t have.

The lack of respiratory bypass was also frustrating. Particularly now, as he chased little Tony around the back garden, playing a two-on-one match of football. Rose and Tony against the Doctor, as Pete and Jackie watched from the grill and the pool, respectively.

It was bloody  _hot_ , and with his higher-than-before body temperature, the Doctor felt as though he were boiling in his own skin. He had already shucked his suit jacket and was only in his trousers and a t-shirt, and both were completely soaked with sweat.

Another bead of sweat rolled into his eyes, making them sting, and he impatiently rubbed a hand over his face. Hmm. Was his face supposed to feel that hot? He shrugged it off and ran his fingers through his hair. It was wet and flat and plastered to his skull and he caught a waft of a foul smell emanating from his underarms.

_Bloody hell, no wonder Rose wants nothing to do with me_.

The Doctor could hardly stand himself; he was hot and wet and smelled awful, and he  _bloody hated his human body!_

“All right there, Doctor?”

The Doctor turned around towards the sound of her voice, and tried to plaster a smile onto his face.

“’Course!” he crowed, and had his voice always been that hoarse? “Fit as a fiddle!”

“Your face is really red,” she noted, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

She lifted the backs of her fingers to his forehead, and her grimace deepened. The Doctor cringed, feeling once more as though he were a mindless child left in the care of Rose. He hated it, and he hated himself, and he hated Rose a bit, too, for those sad eyes she made whenever she looked at him.

“I’m fine,” he said firmly, batting her hand away from his face. He caught sight of Tony using their distraction to his advantage as he neared the goal line. “Oi, you little cheater! Get back here!”

He ran off after the little boy, missing Rose’s heavy sigh and drooping shoulders.

Their game continued under the sweltering summer sun, stopping only when Pete announced the food was just about done. The Doctor would never admit it, but he was glad to have a break. He was sure the skin of his face was about to melt off, and as he swiped his hand over his forehead again, he noticed that he had stopped sweating. Distant alarm bells began ringing in his mind, but the Doctor fervently ignored them in favor of the lure of the shade.

His muscles shook as he plopped onto a lounge chair beneath the only tree in the Tyler’s garden, and tilted his head back. He was so bloody exhausted and hot and he felt awful.

“Doctor?”

He was dimly aware that Rose had called his name, but his ears started ringing and his body felt paradoxically weightless and heavy. He couldn’t quite coordinate his tongue enough to reply, so he let his eyes slip shut as he welcomed the weight of sleep.

“Oh, my God! Doctor!”

Why was Rose yelling? Why did Rose sound panicked? Rose should never sound panicked. Was she in trouble? Did she need his help?

But he couldn’t get his muscles to work, and he suddenly felt cool hands touching his face. He groaned as he leaned into them, chasing the blessed relief from the heat.

“Doctor! Doctor, can you hear me?”

The Doctor grunted in dissatisfaction as the hands moved away, and he squealed when something far colder and harder rested against his forehead.

_Too cold, too cold, too cold!_

He recoiled away from the coldness as his skin began to tingle. The ice on his face hurt and made him feel queasy. _Oh, bollocks, please don’t let me vomit all over Rose…_

He batted away the hands that were holding the ice to his face as he tried to keep his stomach in check.

“Doctor, c’mon!”

He grunted again, leaning into the cool hands that cupped his cheeks, and he was dimly aware that someone was trying to force his eyelids open. But they felt so heavy, and his heart felt heavy, and everything felt so heavy. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“Doctor, please! Look at me!”

How could he ever say no to that voice?

He forced his eyes open, blinking against the blinding light around him. He finally focused in on Rose’s face, and since when were there two Roses? There were two Doctors, not two Roses.

“Doctor, look at me!” she ordered again, and he once more complied.

He blinked sluggishly until there was only one Rose looking at him. Her face was drawn tight in panic and tears were welled in her eyes, and why was she crying? Rose should never be crying. He lifted a heavy hand to cover the hand that was still resting on his cheek.

“M’fine,” he murmured, leaning into her touch.

“No, you’re not,” she answered, though her face relaxed the moment he had spoken. “You’re overheated and dehydrated. When was the last time you had something to drink?”

The Doctor wracked his brain, but thinking was too hard, and so he instead shrugged.

“Dammit, Doctor!” she yelled, and the Doctor recoiled at the anger in her voice.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, not wanting Rose to hate him any more than she already did.

“Here.”

A straw was thrust between his lips, and he automatically began sucking. The water felt too cold in his mouth and it tasted kind of funny as it trickled over his parched tongue, and he tried letting go of the straw.

“Oh, no, drink it all!” Rose ordered, thrusting the straw between his lips again.

“M’fine,” he said. “Can regulate my fluids. Only take a mo’.”

“Not anymore you can’t!”

The Doctor’s stomach clenched as his brain finally caught up with his situation and told him he was suffering from a touch of heat exhaustion.

_Bloody hell this body is rubbish!_

He hated himself and his body for being so weak and proving to Rose just how unDoctorish he really was now, as she was forced to take care of him because his body was so bloody incompetent!

“Doctor, please. Drink it all.”

The Doctor dutifully sucked the straw, ignoring the coldness and the way his body didn’t want any water.

But as the cup grew emptier, that odd taste in the back of his mouth went away. The water didn’t seem as cold and Rose’s hand stopped feeling so cool, and he was suddenly parched.

He sucked greedily at the straw until he was sucking up air.

Rose refilled his cup again, and then again, and then a third time, until he finally thought his belly might explode from the sheer amount of liquid he had consumed.

“Feeling better?” Rose asked anxiously.

She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead and cheeks once more, and furrowed her brow. She turned around and scrambled for something, before turning back and draping a cold cloth across his face. He moaned in pleasure as the towel seemed to suck the heat away from his face.

After a few minutes, his muscles finally started cooperating again, and he sat up straight as he pulled the towel away from his face. He finally grew aware that all four Tylers’ eyes were on him, and his face heated once more, this time in mortification.

He pushed himself up and off the chair, closing his eyes against the sudden vertigo and resolutely ignoring Rose’s demands for him to sit back down. He pushed past her and into the blessedly cooler house, and he mindlessly made his way towards the guest wing where his bedroom was.

He slammed the door behind him, and stumbled into the loo, where he collapsed down on the toilet lid.

_Great. Just bloody great!_

All week he had been trying so hard to assure Rose that he was the same man he was when he was a Time Lord, and now his traitorous body went and gave out on him and highlighted just how very different he was from his Time Lord self. There was no way that Rose wouldn’t now think she’d gotten the bum end of the deal.

The Doctor groaned in frustration and mortification and scrubbed his hands over his face, grimacing as he felt the grittiness of his dried sweat. He yanked off his shirt and fumbled out of his shoes, trousers, and pants before turning the shower on and hopping under the cool spray.

He clenched his fists in frustration as he ducked his head under the water. He hated this body. He really, truly hated it. This stupid body was the reason Rose was so miserable. He should’ve just let his regeneration happen, that way he would still have his TARDIS and Rose would still want him.

But instead she was stuck with him. Well, he wouldn’t burden her any longer. If being mates was all she wanted—and he desperately hoped she would even want that much—then that’s what he would be. And if she told him to leave—his heart nearly stopped at the thought—then that’s what he would do. He would do it for her.

Mind made up, the Doctor quickly cleaned himself before he shut off the water and stepped out onto the bathmat. He quickly towel dried himself and his hair before he wrapped the towel around his waist and walked into his bedroom for clothes.

But he hadn’t expected someone to be perched on his bed. He yelped when he saw Rose sitting on the edge of his bed, picking at her cuticles. She glanced up when he walked in, and the Doctor’s breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. Her skin had a fresh, sun-kissed glow about it, and she was wearing the shortest of shorts and a purple sleeveless top that highlighted her lean muscles. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and his single heart clenched with love, despite his earlier decree. The prospect of just staying mates now seemed impossible.

“Hey,” she said softly, offering him a small smile, and the Doctor’s belly fluttered as he watched her eyes rake up and down his half-naked body.

“Uhh,” he said dumbly. “Clothes! Excuse me a minute. Need some clothes.”

“You’re not putting a suit back on, are you?” Rose chided, and the Doctor bristled. He wasn’t a bloody child!

“What does it matter?”

“Doctor, it’s summertime,” Rose said slowly.

“I’m well aware of that, thanks,” he said coldly.

“You can’t go running about outside in a full suit! Doctor, your body is more sensitive to the heat.”

“Is it?” he bit out scathingly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re human now!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he shouted, making Rose jump. “Do you think I’ve thought of anything else since I woke up like this? Do you think I don’t know how rubbish this body is? I hate it, Rose! I hate that I keep forgetting I only have one heart and I’m pounding on my chest in the middle of the night to try and restart the second one that’s supposed to be there! I hate that I get out of breath! I hate that I can’t run about with you and Tony without feeling ill! I hate it all!”

Rose’s face crumpled for just a moment, but it was long enough for remorse to cut through the Doctor.

“Rose, I’m sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry,” she whispered, biting hard on her lower lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry you’re human and that you’re stuck here, with me, without a TARDIS. I’m so sorry, Doctor. I never wanted this for you. And I know you never wanted it. I’m sorry I can’t give you the life you’re used to, but I can give you the means to keep travelling, if you want. There are plenty of zeppelins that’ll take you wherever you want to go. Could you just—”

Her voice caught in her throat, and the Doctor’s ears rang as he tried to process what she was saying. Was he having a heat-induced hallucination? He desperately hoped not.

“Could you just phone every now and then so I know you’re all right?”

Rose peered up at him, and his heart broke when he saw the tears dampening her cheeks and smearing her mascara.

“Oh, Rose,” he whispered, walking over to her.

He tugged on her wringing hands until she was standing, and he pulled her into his arms. She stiffened for just a moment, before relaxing into his as her breathing hitched. He tightened his arms around her, and tried to quell the spark of hope that maybe,  _just maybe_ , Rose did actually want him, rubbish human body and all.

He swayed them from side to side as he pressed his lips to the top of her head as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Rose hummed into his chest, his very  _bare_  chest, and the Doctor suddenly realized he was clad only in his hastily tied towel, which he could feel slipping off his hips.

He squeaked and dropped his hands to his waist, hitching the fabric back in place, and he lamented the loss of Rose’s warmth against his chest. She looked at him in confusion for just a moment, wondering why he had backed away so suddenly. When she saw how tightly his hands were gripping the towel, she burst into a fit of giggles.

“Erm, excuse me for just a minute,” he mumbled, striding over to the closet to pick out clothes.

He stared longingly at his suits, but his bout of heat exhaustion made him wary of putting layers on, and so he merely stroked the fabric lovingly before stooping down to the bag of new clothes he and Rose purchased earlier that week. He rifled around until he found a pair of khaki shorts and a plaid button-up that he remembered Rose admiring. He grabbed the clothes, a vest, and pants before quickly retreating to the privacy of his en suite.

He dressed quickly, wanting to get back to Rose so he could hopefully clear up the misunderstanding she was under. After he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, the Doctor gave himself a quick look in the mirror.  Satisfied, he stepped back out into his bedroom, plastering a huge smile onto his face as he theatrically spun around so Rose could see his new attire. She giggled, and the Doctor’s smile grew into a genuine one.

“What do you think?” he asked, hoping he met with her approval.

“S’different,” she finally said, letting her eyes trail up and down his body.

“Good different, or bad different?”

“Oh, good different,” she teased, and the Doctor’s stomach swooped as he caught sight of the tip of her tongue poking between her teeth. “Much better for this weather.”

The Doctor grimaced in embarrassment.

“You really scared me, you know,” Rose said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You went so _pale_ …”

“Hey, I’m okay now,” the Doctor whispered, tugging her once more into his arms. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…I hated thinking that my body couldn’t keep up with me anymore. And I overdid it. I’m sorry. I just wanted so badly to be the Doctor you remembered.”

“You are the Doctor I remembered,” she said softly, leaning back to look up at him. “I don’t care if you’ve got one heart or two, big hair or no hair, wear suits or just a towel.” She smirked up at him, and he waggled his eyebrows to make her laugh. “Anyway, that stuff doesn’t matter. I love  _you_ , Doctor, regardless of what body you’re in. And I’m so sorry I made you think otherwise.”

The Doctor’s breath caught in his throat. He squeezed his arms around her waist as he dipped to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, too, you know,” he whispered against her skin. “And I don’t want to leave. Not unless you want me to. I promised to spend my life with you, and I will, but only if you want me to.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I know I haven’t acted like it. But everything has been so confusing. And I’m upset and angry with the other Doctor, but I realized that’s not fair to you. I do want you here, and I’m happy you’re here, and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a cow to you this week. Can we start this whole thing again?”

The Doctor grinned brightly as he said, “Well, where would you like to restart?”

Rose grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t kissed her since Norway, and he hadn’t realized how starved he had been for intimacy with her. Her lips were soft, dry, and warm against his own heated skin, and he groaned as he twined his arms around her shoulders to pull her more completely into him.

“This a good enough restart for you?” she finally whispered against his mouth.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, ducking down to catch her lips again.

She smiled against his mouth, and sighed blissfully when his tongue tentatively traced her lips. But before the kiss could progress into a full-on snog, they were interrupted by the insistent gurgling of Rose’s stomach.

“Dunno about you,” she said breathlessly, “but I’m starved. D’you want to go back out? Dad makes some really great burgers.”

The thought of food didn’t particularly appeal to him at the moment, but he knew his body needed to eat, and so he nodded. Rose threaded her fingers through his and walked with him to the back garden again.

To his utter relief, neither Jackie nor Pete said anything about his earlier episode. However, they seemed keep a watchful eye on him, as though expecting him to collapse again, and he resolutely ignored them in favor of following Rose to the table housing the spread of food.

Rose filled a plate with enough food for them to share, before tugging him back to the chair he had so abruptly vacated earlier. Rose motioned for him to sit, but he shook his head and instead grabbed a blanket intended as a pool towel, and spread it out under the shade. He plopped down and patted the space beside him, breathing a sigh of relief when Rose gracefully sat down beside him.

They both seemed to migrate at once, moving around each other until Rose was seated in the open V of the Doctor’s parted legs, and he had his arms wrapped around her waist to better pick at the food on their shared plate.

It felt so natural to be holding Rose so intimately, and to drop little kisses across her temples, neck, and shoulders between bites of food. And it felt so natural for Rose to be doodling random patterns across his bare knees as she leaned back against him. God, he loved this woman, and his heart stuttered when he realized he could tell her and show her whenever he wanted.

“I love you, Rose,” the Doctor said roughly, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

“I love you too,” she replied, tilting her head back to look at him.

Her lips were so close to his that he could feel her breath puffing across his cheek, and he couldn’t help but angle his face down to catch her lips between his. She returned the gentle pressure eagerly, but pulled back when he went to deepen the kiss.

“Mum, Dad, and Tony are just over there,” she whispered at his hurt expression.

“Ahh.” The Doctor grimaced at the thought of Jackie watching him snog her daughter.

But he couldn’t help himself from pressing a series of soft kisses across her lips before pulling back to hold her tightly once more. She hummed happily, and leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing her in, and the heaviness he had felt over the past week finally lifted.


End file.
